things aren't always
by ppieaui
Summary: Sometimes you have to see not only the whole picture, but two or three to completely understand a situation. ((NOTE: I'm a Draco lover! . . .that will make more sense later, if you bother to read)) NO SLASH!!!


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. . . as they seem

'I just can't take it anymore,' She practically sobbed, her voice was hoarse. Unused to bawling so freely in the first place, let alone letting loose such a soul bearing confession . . . 'I just want out. I want out, I want to go away!'

Draco stared at her, his face as blank and interested as if she had just said, "The door's made of wood, you know."

'I can't help it!' She almost screamed, growing louder, trying to pull emotion out of the young man. Wishing, needing to see _some_ sort of reaction from her childhood friend. 'I can't stand this anymore! I thought I could handle it, but . . . All this hate and pain and . . . and--'

She stopped short, watching the young man stand, starting to leave the room with huge, terrified eyes. Of course, he said nothing. He almost never did when something extremely important was about to happen.

He stopped at the door suddenly, hand on the doorknob. He stared down at it, looking almost regretful . . .

'We'll be contacting you.' He said coolly, not daring to look up at her face.

She felt panic rising like acid from her stomach; it was a mistake coming to him, she should've known he wouldn't simply be a shoulder to cry on; 'Please Draco, you can't, not--'

He whirled to face her, his eyes were cold, unrecognizable and detached. And she knew then she had no hope. 

'I can, I will, and you can't do a thing to stop me.'

Pansy wanted to reach forward and slam his head against the wall, but he disappeared out the door too quickly. Now, it was far too late to do anything, save killing the bloody bastard.

Oh, lord, she had been a fool.

It was odd, but this place wasn't anything like he had imagined. 

He had pictured dark, dirty stone slabs. Cracked, filthy, dusty walls and murky smoke lingering everywhere, making breathing almost impossible. He had had several dreams concerning it, actually. Graphic nightmares of the utter torture he would surely find inside these walls, the deep underbelly of the DeathEaters.

The Malfoy Manor. 

It was the standard site, the hotspot for all DeathEaters to gather. Everyone knew that. Toddlers, the ones who actually knew nothing of good or evil, somehow knew that the Malfoy Manor was where the devil lived. The elementary rhymes children chanted, simple chants. Ron had never listened to them, the mention of Malfoy's name the only thing really catching his attention.

And now he was there. 

And it wasn't anything he had imagined.

It actually made much more sense. The entire building was pure, clean, and white. Glossy and sleek, just like the Malfoy's themselves. The halls were pure white marble, the doors stunningly noticeable, made of a deep black wood that Ron didn't recognize.

Absolutely silent, he flew down the halls, viewing the building in ways a body never could ever hope, unless that person were about to meet his own peril; or, of course, a DeathEater themselves.

His own body happened to be quite safely tucked away in the Burrow, surrounded by some of the most talented wizards ever to grace this world, guarding against all the curses and protection hexes on the Manor.

He was to explore it all, find every nook and cranny and report every single inch of the walls back. Which he didn't have much of a problem doing.

It was his duty to help in anyway he could; it was his duty to make the Malfoy's eat dirt.

A strong pull started him towards one set of the doors, a large pair. Curiously, he decided to move towards it. He did not have to open the door, as that would somewhat ruin the purpose of him leaving his body behind.

Sharp pain as he fazed through the wall, but he could ignore it; he waited in the doorway to investigate the room. Designed as similarly as the rest of the house, everything was pure, arresting white. It was a rather large room, that he could tell, but he could not see the complete span of it, as the door was sunken back in the wall.

Ron did not want to wander further, as the single person standing in middle caused his stomach it twist in ways he had experienced far too often lately.

Sickness and hatred. 

His foe, standing in the center of the room, looking positively giddy.

'What news have you brought?' A scratchy throat that shot terror through Ron's entire body, breathed.

'I have discovered disloyalty among the ranks.' He said, his voice calm, but the small smile of pride shone true to his real feelings of this "discovery."

There was a deep, abrasive, croak. He guessed it was meant to be a chuckle. 'You seem very proficient in that area, young master Malfoy.'

'It is my duty to make sure none stray from your path, my Lord.' Malfoy sounded almost taken over with emotion, as if the very idea of his obligation was so awe-inspiring, it was difficult to speak of.

Ron was not all that surprised.

'Which lamb has strayed from my flock?' The Dark Lord asked, and Ron grit his teeth. How dare scum like that use such a sanctified expression?

He could feel his anger, his bottomless, never-ending _loathing_ start to grow. Because one had the courage to turn from this twisted, sick path, they would be tortured.

And Draco Malfoy couldn't've looked more pleased with himself. The perfect, little, evil minion.

'The Parkinson girl. Pansy.' He looked flighty with joy.

There was no sound for a moment, and Ron guessed it was from surprise. He knew he was shocked enough, Pansy had to be one of the most broadcast DeathEaters there was. Save Draco Malfoy, whose name went hand in hand with DeathEater. 'You must have evidence.'

'Of course.' He said. 'You can ask her yourself, I doubt that she would deny something so plain. I caught her conspiring to "escape" from your duties. I'm afraid she was simply too overwhelmed. She always was a weak one.'

'Enough.' The voice snapped, sounding strained at having spoken so loud. 'Bring the girl forward. Perhaps she can explain herself; I grow tired of all this treachery in my ranks.'

'Yes, my Lord.' Malfoy bowed extravagantly and ducked out of view. It was actually quite a long wait before he came back, leading a cowering girl by a handful of hair.

With a smile of pure delight, he practically heaved the thin young woman to her knees. 

Ron couldn't help the memories, the Yule Ball. Pansy hanging so faithfully to the scum's arm, staring at him with pure adoration. Happy, everyone was happy then. But then again, Malfoy was probably happy because he knew the fate of their classmate, Ron realized bitterly. The sick, perverse, twisted boy had grown into this sick, perverse twisted man. 

The picture of the couple now was so horribly warped, he wanted almost to cry, but he found he couldn't.

Pansy was trembling, shaking out of complete fear. Ron couldn't blame her, but he refused to feel pity. She had probably tortured many of her own before choosing the side of truth.

'There have been strong accusations against you, Miss Parkinson.' The Dark Lord was informing her. 'Please. Explain yourself.'

She somehow managed to shake harder. 'I . . . I cannot.' She practically sobbed, her hands clenching convulsively. Her hair was hanging dead in front of her face, which was bowed so deeply, Ron could plainly see the curve of her back, but it was obvious she was close to tears.

This, Ron could not blame her for, either.

'That is very discouraging,' His voice was now sickeningly stern. Ron clenched his hands into balls of rage; how dare that piece of utter _rubbish_ judge anyone? That disgusting--

'May I punish her?' Malfoy's eager voice interrupted his thoughts. 'Please, my Lord.'

It was shocking, really. Ron had no idea he could be filled with anymore hate for this man; and yet, somehow, he was unbelievably, completely filled with so much revulsion . . . he couldn't even begin to think of the words to describe it.

'I suppose you may.' The voice now sounded tired. 'Do it sufficiently, quickly. Her family has been worthy for many years.'

Malfoy looked like he had just tasted something bitter-- 'All the more reason to punish her harshly! She was given every single opportunity to rise in your empire, and she chose to turn her back on it! The disgusting cow; she was trying to get you _killed_, my Lord.'

He must've nodded, because there were no words, and yet a wide, grotesque smile spread across Malfoy's face.

He bent down to her limp body, grabbing some of her pale brown hair again, and jerked her neck up ruthlessly, 'Hear that, cow? You're getting the _worst_. Painful Delivery. I invented it myself, actually. And it's true to its name-- it's painful. It _hurts_, my friend.'

He pushed her down again, this time so hard, her jaw smacked against the cold stone beneath her.

Malfoy jumped in surprise at the loud CRACK!, leaning back in slightly, his eyes wide. 

Ron felt ill with sudden confusion. Was that . . . regret?

It was quickly covered with pure, unfiltered disgust. 'Think you're worthy enough to bleed on my floor, wench?' He hissed, and delivered a swift kick to her ribs.

She gasped in surprise and pain, and Malfoy straightened quickly.

'Now, for your comeuppance!' He crowed happily, lifting his wand higher. '_Diverto Doleo!_'

Ron felt as if the very air around him was getting tugged, pulled towards the spell caster. A large swell of energy balanced on the tip of his wand for a moment, then there was a silent explosion. It felt almost fake, but Ron could feel the wind coming rushing back towards him.

He couldn't look away from the disgusting scene.

The light silhouetted Pansy's crouching form perfectly, he could see every detail of her body, every strand of her hair, now flawlessly black. 

The glow slowly started cracking against the figure, digging into her frame, shattering her body, allowing Ron to see peaks of the white light behind her. 

With a loud scream, paining Ron's ears, all at once she shattered into countless pieces, then dissolved completely.

The scream of anguish and pain lingered in the room long after the light faded.

'So disappointing, isn't it, young master Malfoy?' The voice croaked, possibly trying to cover the still lingering cry.

Malfoy nodded sadly, but it was obviously in a humoring fashion. 'She could've been so grand,'

And Ron's figurative stomach twisted painfully. 

He wanted to fly at Malfoy, rip his head off his shoulders and beat him with it; scratch at his perfectly pale face until he bled to death; that horrible, horrible person.

He closed his eyes to rid himself of the picture, and when he opened them, he was staring at concerned coffee brown eyes.

'You're back. What happened?' She asked, as the large amount of sweat and noises Ron's body had made was hardly promising.

Ron stared at the ceiling, unable to rid himself of the latest image of torture and pain. 'I'm going to _kill_ Malfoy.'

Pain, the absolute _pain_.

She could do nothing; she could feel each inch of skin, each of it being positively ripped by invisible, rough fingers, shredding her to -pieces!- coming apart and-- 

She heard a hoarse, violent shriek and realized it was coming from her. 

Draco hadn't been lying; it was painful.

But it would be worth it.

She couldn't breathe, she wanted to sob as the throbbing in her ribs from Malfoy's kick left because she could actually _feel_ them ripping to pieces.

A sudden flash of her mother laughing one of her stubbed toes. "_Do you want me to cut off your foot?" She asked cheerily. "That'll fix it."_

And then she was nothing.

'Damned to bloody hell. That's what, the second one this month? Is a party house nearby or something?'

'I don't think so. Lord, would you just wake her up?'

'We could just leave her here.'

'I wouldn't do that! Look, she can't be any older then seventeen. Leave her alone in this neighborhood would be nothing short of evil.'

Pansy would've laughed, if she had the strength. Nothing short of evil?

Muggles had no idea.

'I think she's coming to.'

She creaked her eyes open, just barely, and stared up at two oblivious Muggles. 

'Hey, bird, you alright?' A dirty looking man asked, crouching down to sit next to her.

She wanted to nod, say yes. Hell, she wanted to scream ,"Yes!" jump up and down and even dance a stupid little jig. She was away. She was free.

Pansy Parkinson was dead. She had betrayed the Dark Lord.

As everyone knows, no one lives after betraying the Dark Lord.

Except Draco Malfoy.

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a.n: okay, if you don't get it, re-read it. it's a little confusing, i know but i wrote out the idea to the best of my ability. ^___^ please tell me if you got it. ^__^ 


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